The Wheels of Yesterday

 

Wrestling, you bruise your fear without, to flex your want, within

The Bear in the shadow of a fearless Mouse, on the candid stage of the deadly market-square, un-caged

Who will save you after the fall? Who will ref’ your “go home” show? Or prize the avenging muscle of your unveiled heart?

Hunting, your prey are free no doubt to bear your cross, weighed in

The claws of your eagle on an ancient house, the fated quest for the noble Rurik Chair – en-raged

The rouse of  klyptocracy for the fruits of righteous labour and bloody spoil!

Can you hear the quiet?
The silence of the prams? The cradling seats of hope, the wheels of yesterday brought to rest in Lviv square?

The dreams of tomorrow savaged from the earth by the special operation of your enshrining hand?

Mothers who will not mourn your parting walk of shame,
the death of self-honour
behind the bloody walls of vanities red and the venom that reaches from your blameless Citadel, to silence the voice that’s free…

But such is light and never yours to conquer, Mr. P

Bravo Ukraine!

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‘Opiates of Reason’ Series